Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Rooster frowns like he’s working out a complex math problem in his head. “Are hickeys considered first base or second?”
“You could’ve just as easily said ‘no,’” Rock says.
“But where’s the fun in that?” Z grins.
Jiggy points to me again. “So, which bunny has the mouth of a Hoover? Hook your brother up.”
Rooster rolls his eyes. “All right. It was funny the first—”
“It really wasn’t,” I interrupt.
Silent and stealthy, Wrath walks up behind Jigsaw, plants one of his massive bear-paw hands between Jiggy’s shoulder blades, and shoves.
Jiggy stumbles forward but catches himself. Nimble fucker.
“The fuck, bro?” He turns and glares.
“Stop picking on my RC,” Wrath warns.
Please, as if Wrath’s actually concerned about my feelings. No, he’s probably dying to get in a few jokes of his own. That’s fine. He goes at me too hard, I’ll ask Rock to send him to work at Crystal Ball tonight and next weekend.
Wrath claps his hands together loud enough to be mistaken for thunder if I wasn’t looking directly at him. “If you’re done syncing up your fertility calendars, let’s get inside.”
Z shoots a glare at him and hangs back while Wrath nudges Rooster and Jigsaw toward the clubhouse.
“You all right?” I ask Z.
“Huh?” He shakes his head and flashes a quick smile with no dimples. “Yeah, bro. I’m good.”
Z’s eyes don’t seem to match the words coming out of his mouth. His hasty answer feels more like he wants to move on, than everything’s fine. But since I hate people prying into my life, I don’t keep pestering him.
I study Z for a minute, then shift my gaze to Rock. “All good, Prez?”
“Yeah. Church won’t be long if you’ve got places to be.”
“Headed to Crystal Ball after, so feel free to keep me as long as you want.”
He chuckles. “I feel that.”
“You need some time off?” Z asks me.
“Nah, I’m fine. I could do with less texts from the girls in my off-hours, though.”
“Jesus Christ.” Z yanks his phone out and slides his thumb over the screen. “One of those little bitches sent me a picture of her stupid haircut. For a second, I thought Lilly was going to slit my throat.”
“Was it Kira?” I ask, my tone hovering between amused and annoyed that the girls still bug Z.
“I don’t fucking know.” He stops playing with his phone and shoves it back into his pocket. “Never mind. I must’ve deleted it when I blocked the girl’s number.”
“Yeah, it sunk in for Emily this morning that the girls reach out directly to me sometimes,” I say. “She wasn’t thrilled.”
Z cocks his head. “You fixed things with her?”
An annoyed growl slips out of me. “Does Grinder tell you everything?”
“No. Lilly told me.”
“Don’t you and that beautiful wife of yours have anything better to do than talk about other people’s love lives?”
Z narrows his eyes at beautiful.
“Apparently not,” Rock says, throwing a concerned glance Z’s way.
“Yeah, yeah, so I want one of my oldest friends to be happy—I’m such a dick,” Z mutters.
I clap my hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Sorry, brother. I appreciate the concern. Yes, I think Emily and I worked things out.”
That seems to bring a genuine smile to his face. “Good.” He flicks his gaze toward the sky. “Don’t let stupid stuff like those girls sending you texts and pics fuck it up. Start telling ’em to bother Rav with that shit. He’d love the attention.”
Surprised he’s so concerned about it, I’m not sure what to say. “Uh, I think we worked through it.” I shrug, not really caring if they think I’m stupid for this or not. “I gave her the passcode to my phone, so she can check it if she wants.”
Rock pierces me with a curious stare and I shrug. “We don’t typically send detailed club business through our personal phones. Figured it’d put her mind at ease.”
“That’s an interesting play,” Z says.
“It wasn’t a play. I don’t have anything to hide from her.” I cock my head. “You’re telling me Lilly can’t get into your phone?” I raise an eyebrow at Rock, silently asking him the same question.
Z’s jaw clenches. “How do you think she saw the hair picture?” He jerks his thumb toward Rock and then himself. “But we’re married. It’s different.”
“Do you trust her?” Rock asks me.
“Yeah, I trust her.”
“Are you happy?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Rock claps my shoulder. “That’s all I’m concerned about.” He slides his gaze toward Z. “The rest is none of our business right now.”
If only that were true.
The club’s going to want to know Emily a whole lot better, eventually. Especially if I want to give her a property patch.
“Seriously,” Z says. “Let Ravage handle managing the dancers. Keep yourself on the high-level, big picture problems. Or better yet, I thought Swan was the acting den mom? Why can’t she—”
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s no longer an option. It’s time we let her move on.”